


The Ideal Grave

by Zarius



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blast From the Past Challenge, Episode: s12e09 Ascension of the Cybermen, Other, Patrick Troughton - Freeform, TARDIS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22878769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarius/pseuds/Zarius
Summary: He thinks its High Noon where he is. The scene from a picture most kids would dream of. Only neither of them were kids.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Ideal Grave

Skinny.

First impression the sergeant had on the lad.

Didn’t matter so long as his heart was built a little bigger.

_Make a difference_ thought Brendan.

_Right makes might, not the other way around_

The laws of the land were his command, and they would obey him.

As he stared down the muzzle of the pistol, backing slowly towards the cliff edge as a perpetrator pressed forward, visible temper in his eyes, Brendan thought back to the pride he felt the day he was picked to speak for the law, and to serve it.

He thinks its High Noon where he is.

The scene from a picture most kids would dream of.

Only neither of them were kids.

They were playing a lethal game atop this cliff.

And with one tight squeeze of the trigger, the game for Brendan was lost.

The bullet struck him deep; he was sent careering off the edge, towards the rocks below, towards the inevitable date with death.

As his body made impact, his eyes refused to close; he spent the first instance of death staring directly into the afternoon sun, staring at the cloudy wisps of air as they formed shapes that his scrambled brainwaves found difficult to process.

He lay in a motionless state, his hearing giving out as the waves of the beach crashed around him. 

The birds chirped, the sun, lit bright, were setting on a winter’s day and thus were not at an unbearable temperature.

The conditions were supreme, a calm so inviting that the very flavour of death was a welcome taste.

The ideal grave. 

A grave he didn’t deserve.

And then, upon the discovery of his body, the miracle occurs. 

He feels his heart, previously still, suddenly beat like a drum before settling.

He gasped for a sharp intake of breath, and received it, his mind turned to the crime he was trying to prevent, much to the shock of those who found.

Brendan wanted all there was to remain as it should be, not wanting to focus on how he had come to survive his ordeal.

As the hours ticked by, and he came to terms with what had happened, he realised just how special this had made him.

He was far more than just a lord of the law. More than the merest of man.

Years ticked by, and his body withered and aged much quicker than what the merest of men would expect of someone so young, the want to serve remained but the energy to carry forward was spent, and he found himself soon retired.

He was taken from the streets, by his mentor, by his father, and strapped to a chair, a contraption placed over his head. Meaningless words of condolence spoken to him as they prepared to wipe his mind of the life he’d lived.

On the beach that fateful day, he had been renewed.

On this day, he would be changed.

_Perhaps_ , he thought in the seconds before he lost all that he was, _life depended on such things_.


End file.
